Delta - 5

December 20, 4140
11:00 AM

It hadn’t taken long to make it across town to the residence Vinconni still maintained. It just took a bit of effort to break into his apartment and force him into the trunk of one of the company’s more covert cars.

Who would question a black sedan in this neighborhood? It was the staple vehicle of anyone who didn’t want vocal witnesses, unless of course they were going to be testifying in the right way.

In the trunk, Vinconni screamed but was muffled by the bandana shoved down his throat. Every time he tried to thrash about and escape from his bounds, the ropes would tighten and constrict his arms further. The perfect mixture of old and new methods.

If Harry hadn’t of burned the warehouse earlier that morning, she would have killed him there. Instead, she had to resort to using her own location, which just happened to be an abandoned resort. It was owned by a company the Fiacre family held but pretended not to own, since it had a rather unfortunate history.

“Why did you bring me here to this place?”
“I like to make people figure out things on their own.”
“So the Casablanca Hotel is supposed to mean something to me, outside of being a failed business from several centuries ago. I don’t know how old you think I am, but I certainly wasn’t around for this construction and later destruction.”

Harry could have baited him farther from this point.
“Do you know why I didn’t kill you before?”
"I have learned more in the streets than I have learned in any classroom."
"Good for you buddy.  Now do you want to actually answer my question?"
“Other men in my situation would say something sexist.”
“I didn’t recognize you in the restaurant. And you didn’t say anything. So, I assume your facelift was supposed to be a secret. I must admit, the Zinnian colors and features look better on you than the Nerot ones.”
“You know why I had to change. A year of business and the first time it didn’t go your way, you reported me to the Federation. I can never go back to Nerot.”

Her thoughts went back to her prior actions, first making a deal with the man who slaughtered the people of Tanis. Her people. His people.

“You betrayed us. I betrayed you. Neither one of us deserve to go home.”
“But at least you have a choice. Look at me, I look like a Zinnian, my own mother wouldn’t recognize me now. Wouldn’t you want to go home and see your mother?”

Your mother.

“Which one? The woman who died giving birth to me or the one who raised me to be the killer I am today.”

Harry produced a kit from one of the folds of her coat, laying the coat out on the table and then laying the leather-bound kit on top of it.

“Your army taught you to extract information with pain. So did mine.”
“Please don’t. We can still negotiate a new trade agreement. I can still make this better.”
“You’ve already struck out with that excuse.”

-

When Harry awoke, she was lying on the hard, concrete floor in the garage. Her back was stiff and so was the corpse of Vinconni.

Maybe she shouldn’t have killed me. Or maybe she should have killed him sooner. No matter what the proper had action had been, he was certainly dead now and disposing of him was the only thing to worry about. Luckily this nice, little hotel had been situated on a river bank, far out of town.

As she drug the corpse out the door on a plastic sheet, her left leg buckled and she fell onto the blacktop. It had been too long since her last dose of pain medicine, she needed to get back to the office as soon as possible.

-

An hour later, Harry found her way back to the office and managed to slip in through the back window. It was painful and time consuming, but she always found a way to get around being noticed. It wasn’t until she started stumbling through the office to the kitchen, that she was noticed by Judd, the only person who ever left his office door open.

“And where have you been all morning? I’ve had to do these case evaluations all by myself.”
“I had to take care of a personal errand in Casablanca.”
“Oh. Just don’t mention it around Will, she’d kill you for killing anyone. So do you want to sit in on the Anderson case?”

Harry leaned over to retie her boot lace, while asking, “The crazy cat lady?”
“The crazy cat couple. Evidently the cat that got stole was worth fifty thousand units or some outrageous number.”
“I don’t know, Jud, I just want to go pass out on my couch and smoke.”
“It’ll be worth it, believe me.”

Jud started to produce the case files and the pictures of Mister Mittens, but was interrupted by a loud shriek followed by, “MR. HUFF. HAVE YOU FOUND MY BABY?”

The Anderson were a couple who easily proved that opposites do attract. Everything that Mr. Anderson lacked in classic masculinity, his wife made up for and then chided him for not caring more about their cats. The last time the health department had made a visit to the Kitten Inn, an agent threatened to shut them down due to the number of cats and was soon found in the canals. The agent’s official cause of death was unknown but his entire body was covered in scratches and bites.

And so even though it was very easy to make fun of these people, no private investigator wanted to end up in a canal, after being killed by cats. If the couple were willing to kill a federal official, they wouldn’t think twice about killing another “rat of the streets”.

Jud was very welcoming as he said, “Mister and Missus Anderson, how nice it is to see you two again.”
“How nice? How nice? You say how nice it is to see me, while one of my babies is out dying on the street somewhere.”

Harry had retreated to the shadows when the shrieking woman had busted through the door, but now stood beside Jud.

“I’m sure Jud meant that as a compliment to you.”
“And who the hell are you, you little purple skinned frog?”
“Harriet Bivens, my name is on the door.”
You whore.

“Mr. Huff did not mention your involvement on the case and I do not want one of your kind handling such a precious matter.”
“One of my what?”
“Your kind. Purple skin means Nero and Nero means filthy, traitorous whores.”
“So I’ll take it that you’re not a feminist.”

Jud closed his eyes and sunk into a lounge chair near the kitchen, trying to find a cigarette or a flask, and wishing he could be any place but here. Mrs. Anderson was certainly a volatile person but after working with Harry for five years, he quickly made the bets in his mind, over who would win this fight.

Mr. Anderson soon slunk over to Jud’s hiding place, gave him a sealed envelope and said, “No matter what my wife says about the status of your job, I still want you to find that cat. The collar is worth more than the cat but she would never have anyone know that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Gem smuggling.”

From the other room, the shouting match continued.

“I’ve got to go now but here’s my personal line.”
Jud stared at the man for a second.
“And does your wife –“
“My wife doesn’t know about it. Thank you, I really must be going.”

The shouting had died down but was soon followed by the door slamming, and the small ripple it sent across the office. Jud emerged from his hiding place in the kitchen, lighting a new cigarette.

“Well no matter the status of your diplomatic skills, I got us a new case.”
“From Mr. Anderson? Does his wife know?”
“About the gem smuggling? Yes, I would suspect that she’s the mastermind.”